ed in their lustre by his faithlessness to his wife, or
his unprincipled vices in the _beau monde_ of London. Anecdote after
anecdote, of Waller, of Cowley, of Dryden, flowed readily from his lips.
The coffee-houses were described, where wit and poetry, science and art,
politics and religion, were discussed by the first intellects of the
age, and allured the aspiring youth of England from the vices of
dissipation, that they might drink in rich draughts of knowledge from
these Pierian springs. The theatre, the masque, the revels, which the
genial rays of the Restoration had once more warmed into life, next
formed the subjects of his conversation. Then passing from this picture
of gay society, he referred to the religious discussions of the day. His
eye sparkled and his cheek glowed as he spoke of the triumphs of the
established Church over puritanical heresy; and his lip curled, and he
laughed satirically, as he described the heroic sufferings of some
conscientious Baptist, dragged at the tail of a cart, and whipped from
his cell in Newgate to Tyburn hill. Gradually did Virginia's thoughts
wander from the one sad topic which had engrossed them, and by
imperceptible degrees, even unconsciously to herself, she became deeply
interested in his discourse. Her mother, whom the wily Bernard took
occasion ever and anon, to propitiate with flattery, was completely
carried away, and in the inmost recesses of her heart a hope was
hatched that the eloquent young courtier would soon take the place of
the rebel Hansford, in the affections of her daughter.

We have referred to a stream, along whose forest-banks their road had
wound. That stream was the noble York, whose broad bosom, now broader
and more beautiful than ever, lay full in their view, and on which the
duck, the widgeon and the gull were quietly floating. Here and there
could be seen the small craft of some patient fisherman, as it stood
anchored at a little distance from the shore, its white sail shrouding
the solitary mast; and at an opening in the woods, about a mile ahead,
rose the tall masts of an English vessel, riding safely in the broad
harbour of Yorktown--then the commercial rival of Jamestown in the
colony.

The road now became too narrow for the gentlemen any longer to ride by
the side of the carriage, and at the suggestion of the Colonel, an
arrangement was adopted by which he should lead the little party in
front, while Bernard should bring up the rear. This